The Foundation of Order
by Pittas
Summary: The fall of the Republic was inevitable. The galaxy would suffer from thirty-thousand years of barbarism... unless, of course, action was taken to change the course of events. [A merge between the Foundation series and Star Wars.]


**The Foundation of Order**

 _Part I: The Republic_

* * *

OBI-WAN KENOBI AND HARI SELDON . . . humans with vastly differing backgrounds and occupations. Much is documented about the first, while the second's early life is largely unknown . . .

One was a Jedi Master and the first leader of the Foundation, while the other was a mathematician and the creator of psychohistory . . . Their impact on history is undeniable, rivaled only by the Skywalker family which . . .

The exact date of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Hari Seldon's first meeting is unknown. The most accepted given date is 963 years after the Russan Reformation, more commonly written in terms of the Foundational Era as 23 BFE. The details of their meeting . . .

ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA*

 _* All quotations from the Encyclopedia Galactica here reproduced are taken from the 116th Edition published in 1020 F.E. by the Encyclopedia Galactica Publishing Co., Tatooine, with permission of the publishers._

* * *

On the way to the Archives, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi was greeted with the rare sight of an outsider within the Temple walls. The elder human had minimal Force presence and dressed plainly, wearing a simple brown overcoat and slacks.

He briefly wondered if he was a politician or some other unscrupulous character before quickly dismissing the thought. Obi-Wan sensed no negative emotions from the stranger, and it was ridiculous to think anyone would be able to infiltrate the Jedi Temple. Besides, the man seemed expectant, as if he was waiting for someone. He stood with assurance and seemed almost comfortable.

"Ah, Master Yoda." The man turned to face Obi-Wan but did not appear to notice him.

"Doctor Seldon. Good to see you, it is," replied a familiar voice behind Obi-Wan. Master Yoda shuffled past the apprentice, giving a nod of acknowledgement to the young Jedi.

"It's good to see you too." Dr. Seldon smiled wryly. "You look younger than ever, Master Yoda."

The green master scoffed. "Older, you look."

Obi-Wan started walking away, not wanting to intrude.

"Stay, you should, Padawan Kenobi."

He halted in surprise and hesitantly approached Master Yoda and Dr. Seldon.

"Help you, Obi-Wan will." Yoda's ears curled slightly. "Very capable he is."

Obi-Wan blinked twice and bowed politely. Dr. Seldon held out his hand. After a moment's pause, Obi-Wan grasped his hand and shook it.

"I am Hari Seldon. You must be Obi-Wan Kenobi."

The padawan nodded. "It is an honor to meet you, Dr. Seldon," he said gravely.

"I feel the same." The doctor eyes twinkled in a way that did not match his serious tone.

"Good, good!" exclaimed Master Yoda. "Know each other, now you do. Take care of you, Obi-Wan shall. Urgent business I have!" The old master hobbled away with great haste, leaving the two humans alone. The doctor sighed in mock exasperation.

"I wonder what Master Yoda's 'urgent business' is. I was left waiting for three hours once because Master Yoda was rescuing a particular species of butterfly from the ventilation system. " He looked down the now empty hallway the venerated Jedi Master had gone down before scrutinizing Obi-Wan. "Master Yoda is dreadfully unsubtle. Come on now."

Dr. Seldon briskly made his way through the temple, Obi-Wan at his heels. The man was rather fast for a human who appeared to be in his sixties. On the other hand, Master Yoda was over nine-hundred years old, and _he_ was in remarkable shape. Obi-Wan glanced curiously at his companion as they headed deeper into the Temple.

"We are headed to the Archives," said Dr. Seldon, answering his unspoken question. The older man grimaced. "It is quite a walk from this part of the Temple."

Obi-Wan said nothing, masking his interest under a blank face.

"Questions are acceptable," said Dr. Seldon, amused. "I can hardly threaten you with a lightsaber."

After some deliberation, the Jedi tentatively ventured a question. "Dr. Seldon, what is your doctorate in?"

The man smiled. "A better question would have been 'why are you here.' _That_ is what you wanted to ask."

"The Temple is open to everyone," said Obi-Wan, slightly defensive.

"Yes, but you do not see beings in overcoats walking around in the inner Temple very often." Dr. Seldon coughed several times and continued. "To answer the first question, I have a doctorate in Theoretical Mathematics, and lesser degrees in Humanoid Psychology and General Galactic History. Out of all, mathematics is my true love. Though not yours," he observed, noting Obi-Wan's blandly polite look.

"I appreciate mathematics."

"Many people appreciate it, but very few truly appreciate its beauty. You should explore it in more detail. But I am getting ahead of myself. To answer the second question, I am here to study the Jedi and the Force in order to predict the future."

"What?" said Obi-Wan, unsure if he had heard Dr. Seldon correctly.

"Yes, that is what I said. I cannot anticipate the future using Jedi methodology. I do not possess Force-sensitivity, and visions mean nothing to me. Force-sensitivity throws a huge wrench in models, however. Your abilities to influence beings are quite troublesome, quite difficult to quantify."

"How are you . . . why are you trying to predict the future?" Precognition was dangerous ground for the Jedi. The Order strongly cautioned against deliberate attempts to look into the future.

"I am using a series of mathematical functions. The study is new and not nearly finished, but I call it psychohistory. Its purpose, of course, is to guide the galaxy."

* * *

PSYCHOHISTORY . . . Obi-Wan Kenobi, using nonmathematical concepts, defined psychohistory to be that branch of mathematics which deals with the reactions of sentient conglomerates to fixed social and economic stimuli . . .

. . . Implicit in all these definitions is the assumption that the total conglomerate being dealt with is sufficiently large for valid statistical treatment. The necessary size of such a conglomerate may be determined by Seldon's First Theorem which . . .

A further necessary assumption is that the sentient population be itself unaware of psychohistoric analysis in order that its reactions be truly random . . . The basis of all valid psychohistory lies in the development of the Seldon Functions which exhibit properties congruent to those of such social and economic forces as . . .

ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA

* * *

Dr. Seldon was now confined in a hoverchair, but his eyes still had the intensity from twenty years ago. He offered Obi-Wan tea, but he did not take any for himself. The Jedi, on the other hand, sipped at the bitter green drink the doctor had offered. Tea-drinking was a luxury he seldom had time to indulge in anymore.

"It is good to see you again, Doctor." The two had kept in contact, meeting annually. However, because of the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan hadn't seen Dr. Seldon in three years.

Dr. Seldon examined Obi-Wan like a scientist observing a lab specimen.

"The war has affected you severely. You are overworking yourself," stated the mathematician.

Obi-Wan smiled tiredly. "That's true, but there's nothing I can do about it. For the safety of the Republic, I must remain vigilant."

Dr. Seldon was silent, and Obi-Wan had the distinct feeling that he passed a test.

"You do not need to concern yourself about the Republic much longer," said the elderly man with a hint of sadness.

"Why do you say that?"

"The Galactic Republic will fall."

Silence again. Obi-Wan carefully set the tea cup down.

"Doctor," he said slowly. "What you say is treason."

"Facts are not treason."

"They can easily be seen as such," replied Obi-Wan, a hint of agitation entering his voice. "You have been arrested once already. Your scientific associates were exiled to the Outer Rim. You were only allowed to remain in Coruscant on account of your advanced age."

"And your concern is that anyone who is listening may detain me again." Dr. Seldon looked rather pleased. "It is of no consequence, though your consideration is quite touching. There is a static field obscuring the bugs planted here."

"But your words about the Republic—"

"Are undeniably true. You have seen the signs yourself. The fall has been going on for centuries, dictated by a rising bureaucracy, a receding initiative, a freezing of caste, a damming of curiosity and hundred other factors." The doctor waited for a moment before resuming. "And it is not just the Republic. The Jedi Order itself is also decaying."

He frowned at Obi-Wan's shocked expression. "No, don't deny it. Jedi Knights have been leaving the order in droves, by death and by choice. The war has decimated the Jedi, forcing them to change their ideals and compromise. But the Order refuses to acknowledge that!" He punctuated his words by slamming his hand on the table.

"Like the Republic, the Order has been falling for centuries. It is too rigid and unyielding. Frankly, its rules on emotion are plain ridiculous. The Jedi Code goes entirely against basic psychology, for star's sake! Furthermore, by forbidding _attachments_ , as you say, the Jedi have been self-selecting out of the gene pool. The Jedi of old were able to do much more than the Jedi of today. Don't pretend you haven't noticed!" They had discussed this topic before, but Dr. Seldon had never spoken so vehemently.

Obi-Wan flinched. He opened his mouth to speak but decided against it. He stared at the table, hands clasped tightly, knuckles white. Obi-Wan slowly closed his eyes as if overwhelmed by a sudden headache.

Seldon continued with a gentler tone. "The fall has been accelerating, and the probability that it will fall in the next ten years are 92.5%. The figure jumps by seven percentage points if the time scale is changed to twenty years." The doctor pushed a clunky datapad across the table. "See the numbers yourself. Your understanding of mathematics is enough to comprehend the results."

Obi-Wan picked up the datapad and scanned the figures, once, twice, and three times. He checked the methods, the graphs, and the equations before setting the device down with a paralyzed sense of finality.

"It . . ." He wet his lips. "It cannot be stopped?"

"You know the underlying theory of psychohistory quite well. The fall is massive and includes over one hundred quadrillion sentient beings. To stop the momentum, an enormous amount of people or time is needed. It is too late."

"There must be a way," said Obi-Wan almost hoarsely. "What will happen? What can we do? "

"The fall of the Galactic Republic will lead to over thirty-thousand years of barbarianism. Over a thousand human generations will suffer before the next stable Galactic government forms. Countless knowledge will be lost, whittled away by time and ignorance." The doctor gazed past Obi-Wan, contemplative. The Jedi General regained his composure, and his eyes focused sharply on Dr. Seldon.

"We might not be able to prevent the fall, but the time between this Republic and the next can surely be shortened."

The doctor nodded with approval. "You are correct. The plan I have set in motion has a 64.8% chance of bringing the next Republic in just two thousand years." Dr. Seldon's voice lowered, dropping in volume and pitch. "And, it has a 24.3% chance of reducing the time to two hundred years."

"How?" asked Obi-Wan firmly. His posture unconsciously shifted into a more commanding one.

"You know of the thirty thousand scientists who were sent to the Outer Rim. While the Republic claimed it was simply to establish a research institution, the public was led to believe that the members were actually exiled for treason. In reality, the exodus was planned. They are truly setting a scientific community dedicated to gathering all our current information in one giant summary, allowing the next generations to build on it. It will be the Encyclopedia Galactica, the greatest repository of information known to sentients. A second foundation will be established at the other end of the Galaxy." A small smile appeared on the old man's face. "At Star's End, so to speak."

Obi-Wan felt a prickling sensation, alerting him of something subtle that he could not comprehend. Dr.

Seldon shifted slightly.

"The plan is not perfect. As I said, the best case scenario still has approximately a one-in-five chance of occurring. For it to succeed, I will need help. Specifically, yours." Dr. Seldon leaned forward, asking the unspoken question.

"Yes," answered Obi-Wan. "Of course."

* * *

THE GREAT JEDI PURGE . . . beginning with Order 66, the massacre of the Jedi Order culminated in Operation Knightfall, when the Jedi Temple of Coruscant was assaulted and destroyed. The declaration of the Jedi as traitors and their subsequent execution is largely considered to be . . .

Darth Vader and the resulting Empire hunted down the remaining Jedi Knights, effectively wiping out the Order. Several Jedi managed to survive in hiding, including Obi-Wan Kenobi and . . .

The genocide committed by the Empire led to backlash, especially amongst the traditionalist Core region. Dissent and criticism from any system was promptly and ruthlessly squashed by the Empire's troops, and an extensive censorship and propaganda program guaranteed that all information about the Jedi was either unavailable to the public or a false exaggeration meant to bolster Imperial support . . .

ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA

* * *

Luke slept peacefully in Obi-Wan's arms. Obi-Wan could not help but see Anakin in the infant's face, even though the child was too young to resemble anyone.

"Did you know?" Obi-Wan addressed the doctor but did not meet his eyes. "Did you know what would happen to the Jedi? Did you know about Chancellor Palpatine?"

A hint of emotion entered the serene doctor's countenance. "I suspected that the Order would collapse eventually, but the models did not foresee the scope of the destruction. I knew that there was a powerful Force-wielder who was hastening the Republic's fall, and like the Council assumed, the predictions pointed to a member in Palpatine's circle. I did not think he would act so soon."

Dr. Seldon looked at Obi-Wan, though Obi-Wan did not look at him. "The Dark Side must cause mental instability. The Sith's actions over the past years have been increasingly unexplainable and unpredictable. Of course, psychohistory is rather inaccurate when applied to individuals."

Obi-Wan did not comment on the doctor's statements. Dr. Seldon let several moments pass.

"Where will you go?" asked Dr. Seldon, voice steady and devoid of feeling once again.

"Tatooine," replied Obi-Wan, subdued pain overwhelming his words. "I will give Luke to his uncle and aunt to raise."

"Where will _you_ go?"

"Tatooine as well, to watch over him. He is our only hope."

"That is a lie, and you know it. Hope is not concentrated in one person."

"It can be."

"It should not. No one person should or can bear the burden."

Obi-Wan laughed bitterly. "If only we knew that sooner."

"Go to Tatooine, but do not give Luke to his uncle and aunt. Fulfil your promise to help me and Master Yoda. Instead, join the gathering of scientists there and contribute knowledge to the galaxy. Raise Luke with the other families."

"I cannot raise Luke. I am incapable of raising a child."

"You are not."

"But why should I?"

"For the greater good."

"I am tired of the greater good!" That was a lie. Both of them knew it.

"Then for yourself. Secluding yourself in a cave will not help you, no matter what you believe. Do not martyr yourself. It will mean nothing. You will simply waste away!"

Obi-Wan's anger flared brightly and then quickly died, replaced by cold despair.

"I can't . . ." Luke squirmed as he felt the negative emotions emanating from the man who held him.

"You can. It is a chance to start over. A new name, a new life. A chance to rebuild."

"Rebuild what? The Republic? The Order? Both are gone!"

"You will not rebuild the Republic, not yet. Nor will you recreate an Order. Instead, you will build a Foundation." He said this with a complete conviction that made Obi-Wan hesitate.

"If I am caught—"

"The probability of that, when sufficient disguise is taken, is only 4%. And in the event of discovery, your capture will not significantly affect the plans."

Obi-Wan felt a strange chill. Dr. Seldon was right.

"Fine."

Dr. Seldon smiled again.

"I took the liberty of arranging a ticket and an identity for you. For your disguise, I suggest that you at least shave the beard and change your hair." He gave Obi-Wan the card and ticket. Obi-Wan glanced at them both.

"Ben Salvor Hardin?" asked Obi-Wan. "You are making me Corellian?"

"I thought it suitable."

Obi-Wan looked closer at the ticket. "The flight leaves in just two hours."

"I suggest you get ready."

Obi-Wan paused. "What about you, Dr. Seldon? The Empire will not let you be. And your plan . . ."

"I will die soon, but it does not matter. There will be successors, and these successors will be able to apply the final touch in the scheme and instigate the events at the right time in the right manner. Thereafter, events may roll unheeded."

Dr. Seldon navigated the hoverchair to a small safe. After pressing his palm to the door, he opened it, and to Obi-Wan's astonishment, withdrew a lightly glowing holocron. He slowly handed the device to Obi-Wan. "This is the final piece of the Vault. Give it to my granddaughter on Tatooine to finish the sequence of events." The doctor looked pensively at the holocron. "I have accomplished what is needed. You will know."

"I don't understand."

"You will." Dr. Seldon's lined face grew peaceful and tired, both at once. "You will leave for Tatooine, but I will stay. You will live. But as for me," he concluded in a whisper, so that Obi-Wan could scarcely hear him. "I am finished."

* * *

TATOOINE . . . Its location (see map) was an odd one for the role it was called upon to play in Galactic history, and yet as many writers have never tired of pointing out, an inevitable one. Located on the Outer Rim of the Galactic spiral, the only planet of a binary star system, poor in resources and negligible in economic value, it was largely habituated by the underground crime syndicates and destitute moisture farmers. The planet was known for being the home of Jabba the Hutt, the birthplace of Anakin Skywalker, and little else until the landing of the Encyclopedists . . .

It was inevitable that as the settlement grew, Tatooine would become something more than an appendage of the psychohistorians. With the Tatooine slave revolt and the rise to power of Obi-Wan Kenobi, then known as Ben Salvor Hardin, first of the great line of . . .

ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA

* * *

Dr. Lew-Ispi-Ren was working busily at his desk. The day of reckoning was closer, and more needed to be accomplished.

Ten standard years now; ten years to establish themselves and set up Encyclopedia Foundation Number One into a smoothly working unit. Ten years to gather the raw material. Ten years to prepare.

It had been done. Five more years would see the publication of the first volume of the most monumental work the Galaxy had ever conceived. The work would be distributed through the Holonet, via datapad, and even through actual paper.

The Encyclopedia would be published in nearly every language, for everyone and anyone to read. And then at ten-year intervals, regularly like clockwork, volume after volume. And with them there would be supplements; special articles on events of current interest, until—

The Cerean's protocol droid informed him in a bland voice that Ben Hardin had arrived. Ren frowned then ignored the man who walked in quietly. His eye twitched with annoyance as he concentrated on the datapad in front of him.

Obi-Wan, known to everyone here as Ben Hardin, simply took his seat and waited. He had faced down Sith Lords, politicians, killer droids, and clone armies. He was also raising a six year old boy. Ben possessed patience in abundance. Too much patience, in his opinion. He watched Dr. Ren tap frantically at the malfunctioning device.

"Would you stop that?" snapped Dr. Ren, finally looking up.

"Stop what?" asked Ben innocently. His voice contained just the right amount of Corellian drawl. After six years, his accent was near perfect.

"Stop staring at me as I complete my work!" He glared at the nonchalant human.

"Sorry about that. Just let me know when you're ready. There's a City Council meeting in an hour, and I've got to be there."

Ren sighed at set the datapad down lightly. "Well, do get on with it. I hope it is not about civilian affairs. My duty is to the Encyclopedia and nothing else." He gazed haughtily at the faux-Corellian.

"You've heard the news, right?" said Ben slowly.

"What news are you speaking off?"

"The news that everyone's been talking about. Jabba the Hutt's signed a treaty with the Emperor." Six years had passed since the Empire's founding, but he still found it difficult to say that word.

"And your point being?"

"My point's that we can't scare Jabba into leaving us alone with talk about the Empire's protection anymore."

Ren sniffed. "We have a charter from the Republic. Since it has transmuted into the Empire, the Emperor must still honor the agreements of the document."

The 'Emperor' had no honor to speak of. The words 'honor' and 'emperor' should never be used in the same sentence. The former Jedi sighed and tried to explain for the hundredth time.

"The treaty basically gives Jabba the rights to the Outer Rim. We expected this for a while now, but it still makes things difficult. Before, Jabba thought that we were too insignificant to deal with. But as more and more people join the city, the more suspicious he becomes of us. The charter was the only thing holding him back. Even _he_ didn't want to draw the wrath of the Republic… or the Empire. But now, nothing's stopping him. He may even cut off our supply flow!"

Of course, the agreement was almost certainly temporary. The Sith would definitely bring his troops to Tatooine after he crushed the pockets of resistance in the heart of the galaxy.

"So? Just work through him."

"That's the problem. According to the charter, the Board of the Encyclopedia Committee has full powers over everything, administrative or otherwise. As mayor, I can _maybe_ kick a sand dune if you explicitly give permission and countersign an express order. It's up to you and the committee to take action. In the name of the city, _please_ call an emergency meeting."

Lew-Ispi-Ren waved his hand dismissively. "Save me your campaign speech. We are first and foremost scientists, remember ? While the board understands the necessity of a municipal government, there is no need for us to involve ourselves in local Tatooine politics."

"This is beyond simple local politics!" argued Ben. "Terminus has no way of supporting itself without trade from other parts of Tatooine and the galaxy. This is a _desert_ planet with little resources. While we have a power station and some agricultural plants, the city has nowhere near the amount of supplies necessary for survival!"

"I don't expect you, as a politician, to understand the necessity of science," sniffed the Cerean. "But we are scientists first, as I've said before. The Encyclopedia is our only priority."

Ben hid the flash of annoyance. He hadn't become a politician out of personal choice. He found it distasteful, to be sure. But the citizens of Terminus, for some strange reason, had chosen him to be their mayor. And Ben had the responsibility to complete his duty to the best of his ability.

His mayoralty was strange to think about; seven years ago, the likelihood of him becoming a politician was the same as that of the Order's collapse. Ben pushed the grim thoughts out of his mind. The more pressing issue was the board's absolute refusal to do anything about the impending crises. It was the Galactic Senate all over again.

"Then, no action will be taken?"

"No action will be needed," corrected Ren. The doctor picked up his datapad and glanced at it before abruptly setting it down again. "Oh, and Hardin, do something about that journal!"

"In case you have forgotten," Ben said stiffly. "We have something known as 'freedom of press' in this city. What the journal prints is up to them."

"That _journal_ is advocating for the dismantling of the Board's executive powers! That cannot be allowed. You must do something to stop that nonsense!"

"I don't need to do anything. The City Journal is perfectly within its rights as a news publication." Ben had seen the chancellor-turned-emperor dismantle the freedom of press once. He would not let anyone do it again.

The mayor stood up. "I really must get going." Ben's gaze hardened. "Before I leave, I have one final piece of news to share about our status in Tatooine."

"Well, what of it?"

"Jabba is sending a personal envoy to our city in two weeks."

"Jabba the Hutt?" Ren furrowed his brow. "Why?"

The former Jedi paused by the door. "I give you one guess." And he left quite unceremoniously.

* * *

Ben walked back from the City Council meeting with his friend and secretary Yo Hanlee. The Nautolan's was ranting about the Board's obtuseness and decrying their unwillingness to do anything.

"Don't they realize that the Empire will do nothing? The Republic has fallen, and it at least pretended to care about human rights and sovereignty. Do they really believe that the _Empire,_ which stands against everything the Republic believed in, will try to help us? Blind fools, all of them. No sense of remorse for the Republic, no sense at all."

"And you cared deeply about the Galactic Republic?" said Ben mildly.

"As much as a smuggler could," Hanlee replied nonchalantly. "That's the main reason I came here, you know. The Republic let us alone, but the Empire's trying to crack down on us. Lost a lot of friends because of them." Hanlee frowned and abruptly changed the topic. "But let's talk about happy things. How's Luke doing?"

Ben smiled. "He's doing very well. Luke's a bright and friendly boy. He's made friends with practically every child in school."

"Doesn't surprise me," said Hanlee approvingly. A playful expression came over the Nautolan's face.

"Say, who's watching him right now?"

Ben sighed. "Wanda Seldon."

"Good choice." Hanlee smirked. "You really do need a mate. Who better than the granddaughter of the late and great Dr. Seldon? If you marry her, then you're sure to win the next election. She's practically royalty. Think of all the advantages you'll gain from that match."

The former Jedi raised an eyebrow both at the distasteful thought and the inconsistency. "If I remember correctly, Nautolans marry only for love." The aquatic species mated for life, and political marriages were almost unheard of. The concept of an arranged marriage was abhorrent and foreign, going against their most sacred tenants.

Hanlee looked at Ben curiously. "Yes, that's right. How did you know? Not many know about that. We're a pretty secretive lot."

Ben felt a dull pang of sadness. The Jedi Master Kit Fisto had told him a great deal about Nautolan culture. Obi-Wan had even accompanied him on several missions to Nautaola. But that was in the past.

"I had a Nautolan friend," answered Ben.

"I see…" Hanlee didn't pry any further. "Well, you _are_ right about Nautolan's marrying just for love." Hanlee grinned. "But humans don't. I thought it would convince you."

"I'm not going to get married, Hanlee." He had seen what attachment had done to Anakin. Ben would not make the same mistake. "Besides," he added. "I don't have much luck with women." It was true. Every woman _he_ had ever felt affection for had died. Clearly, the universe was trying to tell him something.

"A good-looking human like you? I find that hard to believe. After all, Wanda's attracted to you."

"What?"

Hanlee winked. "Pheromone sensors and common sense. It's as clear as day."

"Good to know," said Ben dryly. He stopped by the entrance of his dome.

"I'll see you some other time, Ben," Hanlee said with a smile.

"I'll be seeing you." Ben then opened the door and walked into his blissful temperature-controlled house.

"Uncle Ben!" shouted Luke, running to give him a hug. "Dr. Wanda was teaching me 'bout the Galactic Republic!"

"Really?"

"Mhm! She told me all about the Coru-corscant, and how everything was really wicked!"

"Wicked, was it?"

"Yeah!" Luke chattered cheerfully about what he learned today. Ben grinned at his unbridled enthusiasm.

"Welcome back, Mr. Hardin," said a mellow voice. Dr. Wanda Seldon held out her hand.

"Thank you for watching Luke, Dr. Seldon," Ben replied, shaking her hand. School was closed once a week, and he wasn't able to watch Luke because of his meetings.

"It was my pleasure." Wanda smiled fondly at Luke. "He's a wonderful child."

"Yes, he is." Ben ruffled the child's hair, causing the boy to squawk indignantly. "Do you want to stay for dinner?" he asked, as he did every time.

"I appreciate the offer," she said, declining as always. "But I have to meet with a patient now. Perhaps some other time."

"Of course." He and Luke walked her to the door. Ben had always insisted on manners with Luke. "Goodbye, Dr. Seldon."

"Bye Dr. Wanda!" As soon as the doctor left, Luke immediately pounced. "Uncle Ben, could we learn more about the Force? Please? You promised!"

"Alright, alright!" said Ben, failing to hold back his laughter at the boy's puppy face. "But before we do, what are the rules?"

"Only use the Force to help others. Don't use it where others can see you. Never tell anyone about the Force," answered Luke promptly.

"Good. Now, let's start with meditation…"

* * *

Bib Fortuna, Jabba's majordomo and advisor, frowned disdainfully at Ben and Lew-Ispi-Ren. The Twi'lek hesitantly removed his blaster from his belt and presented it to Ben stock first. Ben returned the compliment with his own blaster, which was the same one he had worn since his arrival to Tatooine. The gesture conveyed respect in these backwaters, though respect was not a feeling either of them had for each other.

Ben holstered his blaster, goodwill and hospitality established. The uncivilized weapon would never feel as comfortable as his lightsaber, but after six years, it had a familiar weight. Ben tactfully ignored the several bulges in Bib Fortuna's coat and let the heavily-armed Twi'lek into the city.

 _"This is the trash heap called Terminus?"_ said Jabba's advisor in Huttese.

Dr. Lew-Ispi-Ren stared at the Twi'lek with incomprehension.

"No," responded Ben in Galactic Basic. "This _city_ is called Terminus."

" _So you understand Huttese?"_

"Clearly." Anakin had spoken it fluently, so Ben had made an effort to at least understand it. "But there's a protocol droid inside, so you won't have to rely on me as a translator if we get going."

Bib Fortuna ignored Ben and looked to Lew-Ispe-Ren. _"Which one of you is the leader?"_

"Dr. Lew-Ispi-Ren is the Chairman of the Board of Trustees and the head of Terminus," answered Ben. "He holds the executive power in this city."

"And I do believe it is time for our expedition," Dr. Lew-Ispi-Ren said pompously.

If Ben found himself slightly bored by a tour that he had seen a hundred times before, he had at least the satisfaction of realizing that Ren and Bib Fortuna were detesting each other's company a great deal more.

Bib Fortuna attended with glazed eyes to Dr. Ren's lecture during the "inspection tour" of the Encyclopedia Building. With impolite sneer, he listened to the latter's rapid patter as they passed through the vast archive of datapads and the holographic display rooms.

After they had gone down level by level into and through the editing departments, publishing departments, and digital-programming departments, Bib Fortuna finally expressed his opinion.

 _"This all seems kriffing pointless."_ Even C9-4O's electronic translation was incapable of translating the statement in a completely polite manner.

It was a remark, Ben noted, for which Ren found no answer, though the expression of his face was most eloquent.

After dinner and pointless niceties, they were finally ready for the real business. Ben linked his fingers and waited for the Jabba's representative to start. When negotiating, the one who spoke second had a slight advantage . . . and that advantage was promptly lost when Ren spoke first instead.

"So, Mr. Fortuna, what brings you to our humble place of residence?" The Cerean crossed his arms and stared at the Twi'lek with thinly veiled distaste. Bib Fortuna, on the other hand, did not even attempt to hide his own contempt for the cerebral chairman.

 _"I came to talk tribute."_

"Tribute?" asked Dr. Ren.

 _"Yes, fool,"_ snarled Bib Fortuna. _"Tribute. The illustrious Jabba the Hutt has let you stay here. Now it's time to discuss the price."_

The doctor nearly choked with indignation. "Tribute? Must I remind you that Terminus City is under the supervision of the Empire?"

 _"That doesn't mean a kriffing thing anymore. You're under our control now."_

"There is absolutely _no_ way that Terminus will pa—"

"Well, what kind of tribute would you like?" said Ben, deciding that now was the time to finally speak up. He ignored the look of rage that the Cerean sent his way.

The Twi'lek scoffed. _"You don't know what tribute is?"_

"I do know what it is. But what specifically do you want? Books?"

 _"What? Why would we want that?"_ Bib Fortuna sneered with confused condescension.

"You do realize that Terminus is a research outpost? We import nearly all our supplies. I doubt we have any goods of value for you."

" _Are you telling me that this_ Terminus _has no [tattoine currency]? If you don't have any goods, then you should at least have money. You will need it. Jabba's protection is expensive. How do you plain to protect yourself from pirates and raiders?"_

Ben waved his hand dismissively. "Terminus has no monetary surplus. All our money goes into running our facilities and feeding our people. Our plasma reactor takes up most of our budget, and the rest is needed for the cost of food and water. As for protection, why would we need any? As I said, we have nothing of value."

Bib Fortuna stared. _"You . . . you have a running plasma reactor?"_

"Why, of course! It's only standard galactic technology." Ben frowned. "Though the sand here does corrode the capsule modulators rather quickly. Our technicians have to clean them out every day. You don't happen to have spares, do you? We only have three left."

 _"M-modulators? Maybe we can spare some. I can consult with the illustrious Jabba and see if he'd lend you any."_ The Twi'lek seemed rather disgruntled. _"We'll talk about this tomorrow. I have to finish my jobs for the fearsome Jabba. I can't stay on this waste-heap all day."_

Ben hid a smile as he watched Jabba's representative leave in a hurry, nearly knocking over the translator droid. The Cerean gritted his teeth and glared in the direction the Twi'lek had gone. "That insufferable, dull-witted bantha fodder! That—"

Ben interrupted him. "Not at all. He's merely the product of his environment. He doesn't understand much except that 'I have a blaster and you don't."

Lew-Ispi-Ren whirled on him in exasperation. "What in space did you mean by the talk about tribute? Are you utterly insane?"

"No. I merely gave him rope and let him talk. After all, he revealed Jabba's true intentions. He plans to take control of Terminus and have us pay him like the other ports on Tatooine. Of course, I don't intend to let him take control of this city any more than you do."

"You don't intend. You don't. And who are you? And may I ask what you meant by blowing off your mouth about our plasma-reactor? Why, it's just the thing that would make us a target."

"Yes," grinned Hardin. "A target to stay away from. Isn't it obvious why I brought the subject up? It happened to confirm a very strong suspicion I had had."

"And that was what?"

"That Jabba the Hutt's lost _his_ reactors. The talk about capsules was nonsense, of course, but Fortuna's reaction was proof enough. Plasma reactors need careful maintenance, the kind that only comes from the core. Jabba just implemented it for his 'capital,' but those reactors gave him a large advantage over the rest of the rim. The lack of technicians and trade from the center will probably continue the technological regression out here."

"Bah!" After glaring furiously, Lew-Ispi-Ren left in a terrible storm.

Ben sighed and stroked his beardless face, a habit that he still found himself slipping into. "Back to solar energy and fossil fuels…" he murmured. Ben kept the rest of his thoughts to himself.

* * *

 **AN:** This story was written a while ago, with the intention of merging the universe of Star Wars and the Foundation. _The Foundation of Order_ has copied and changed certain sections of text from the original _Foundation_ novel.

It was written in the style of the Foundation series; in other words, the story has a focus on politics, history, etc. It's also rather dry. While the beginning is much like the Foundation series, I intended to quickly branch away from it and head into uncharted territories (and make it more like Star Wars by adding a dose of action and adventure). I don't know if I'll continue it or not. I'd love to hear feedback and criticism, however. Thanks for reading!


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